The Tale of How Bubbles Made Everything Better
by HPandPJnerd19568
Summary: Jack decided to go travelling. He also decided that he absolutely needed to go talk to the man with red hair that ran the bubble stand. Septiplier, oneshot, fourth installment, gay, yay!


Bubbblessssssss

* * *

Well.

This sucked.

The sun was beating down on the back of his neck as though it was trying to light his baby hairs on fire, his clothes stuck to him as his body sweated out every fluid he took in faster than he could process it to his bladder, his cap was doing shite to protect his eyes, and he was sure he was red as a fucking tomato.

He was Irish! If someone had told him that taking a trip to the America's in the summer would be equal to that of skinny dipping in a volcano, he would have thought twice, or maybe thrice about his desire to travel.

Jack wiped the sweat off his brow. He felt like he was roasting alive, and to add to that, everyone else seemed to be almost unaffected by the heat. His pale skin had to be blinding other people as much as the sun was blinding him, having flushed with all the heat exposure.

Jack took his cap off and ran a hand through his bright green hair, which was wet and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the whether status of the States, but LA California couldn't be _that_ bad. He was going to go straight back to Ireland if anywhere else he was going to go was this hot.

Jack currently had been walking around, trying to tour LA as much as he could. But the heat was starting to make him light-headed, and he was considering going back to his hotel, until he came across a park.

It wasn't anything overtly nice or huge. A big grassy field with some trees and benches, the sidewalk circling the area. Several little kids were running around, as well as a woman playing with her dog. One of the kids had a giant bubble wand that he was waving around happily. Jack could hear his giggles from twenty feet away.

Jack looked around, slowly stepping towards the nice spot, which wasn't coated in cigarette butts. And then he stopped for a moment, his feet stuttering. There was a little stand off to the side, with a man standing behind it, selling an assorted about of bubble things. Jack watched as a mother walked up, a little girl holding onto her hand as she bought something.

He couldn't hear what the man was saying, but the deep baritone echoed to Jack. He smiled brightly, red hair shining brighter than the sun and Jack's skin. He was very handsome, glasses slipping halfway down the bridge of his nose before he pushed them back up.

Jack wasn't sure why, but he _really_ wanted to talk to that man for some reason. And so, Jack did the only thing any other person (who was on the verge of fainting from heat exposure) would do, and walked up to the stand. Once he got there, however, he realized he hadn't thought this out completely.

Jack stared at the man for a moment, who watched him with a small little quirk to his mouth. Jack fumbled to grab one of the crappy bubble wands, one of the ones where you just pushed a button and bubbles shot out themselves.

"Two dollars, sir." The man spoke. Jack could only blink at him for a moment, before he realized where the fuck he was _-get yourself the fuck together Sean-_ and reached into his pocket for his money. He glanced back up momentarily to see an amused expression on the man's face. "Is this for your son?" He asked conversationally as Jack struggled to pull out two simple ones from his wallet _-why did he have so much change-_ making Jack pause.

"My do-daughter. My daughter." Jack stuttered out. He finally pulled out the money, handing it to the man.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Long way from home, huh? What's her name? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

 _Uhhhh._ "Gizzmo." Jack blurted. The man furrowed his eyebrows. Jack bustled off, a blushing mess, though he was sure no one would be able to tell, with how flushed he was from the sun. Jack stumbled his way to a park bench, slumping. He'd just made a fool of himself in front of the first American he had had direct contact with. This travelling thing was off to a great start.

He stared at the bubble wand in his hand. Apparently he had a daughter named Gizzmo, after his dog back home in Ireland. Jack rubbed his forehead. He usually wasn't this flustered around people.

 _Well, people don't usually look like that._ Jack had to agree with whoever had said that, be it his inner voice or narrator of sorts. He looked back down at the little bit of plastic on his hands, which he had gotten in exchange for two dollars and making a fool of himself.

Jack pushed down on the button, moving the little gun around as bubbles floated around him, catching in the slight breeze.

"You don't really have a daughter named Gizzmo, do you?" Jack fell off the bench in fright, clutching the gun to his chest.

"By Jesus fookin' Christ! Are ye tryina give me a heart attack?" Jack cursed, breathing heavily as the man from before appeared behind him.

Speaking of the bastard.

He was hunched over, trying to desperately contain his laughter. Jack huffed as he stood, picking up his cap, though his dignity and pride remained scattered across the ground.

"Sorry, sorry." The man wheezed out, and by _Jesus_ even his laugh was octaves lower than Jack had ever heard a human voice go.

Jack huffed, and sat back on the bench. The man joined him, a wide smile on his face. "You didn't answer the question."

"No, I was busy dyin' on the ground cause ye decided ta sneak up on me." The man's smile only grew.

"I apologized. I'm assuming that's a 'no' on the daughter thing, yes?" The man prompted.

Jack flushed, becoming flustered.

"Not completely."

The man arched an eyebrow.

"My dog back home is named Gizzmo."

Anddddd that just sent him into another bout of laughter. Fan-fookin-tastic. If Jack didn't like the sound of his laugh so much, he'd leave now. As it was, he crossed his arms over his chest. A smirk crossed his face, and he quickly shot a litany of bubbles at the man, who jumped back as he was startled, falling off the end of the bench, causing Jack himself to end up laughing until his sides ached, whilst the stranger on the ground rubbed his side with a pout on his face.

"How ye like it now?" Jack wheezed out.

"Har har har." The man said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not the one who bought bubbled for my imaginary daughter."

Jack straightened, sticking his nose to the sky, an airy playful-ness around him. "It is perfectly respectable for a man ta buy bubbles for himself." Jack sniffed. The man grinned.

"Of course, of course. Every full grown adult I know has at least one jug of bubbles around their house." Jack glared at him. "No, really! All my friends are children and are a quarter of the prophet for this little business I have here." Jack snorted, taking off his cap to run his fingers through his matted hair.

"Ye bastard." Jack muttered, a smile on his face as he shook his head. The man grinned.

"I'm Mark, actually."

"Jack." The two shook hands.

"You could have just started with that instead of buying bubbles to talk to me. You already had my attention, you know." Jack spluttered.

"I did not buy bubbles ta talk to you! I wanted bubbles!" Jack defended, a flush coming to his face. Mark did that little smile-quirk thing that made Jack's knees weak and his stomach flutter.

"Do you want to go out with me sometime? We could go hunt for rainbows, collect some gold." Jack simply prayed bubbles in his face. Mark batted them away, laughing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means yes in Irish, ye racist bastard."


End file.
